The Hunt
by karate0kat
Summary: It's been years since the Winchesters have seen Jo Harvelle, but she's a fully trained hunter now, and their paths were bound to cross eventually. Dean/Jo pairing with lots of Sam too.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of it's wonderful characters. If I did Jo would totally still be on the show.

Author's note: This is a multi-chapter fic though I'm not quite sure how many chapters exactly. The story is technically finished, but neither my beta or I are totally satisfied with the ending yet, so if the updates start to lag it's probably because I'm getting close to chapters that I'm still rewriting. But I wanted to get the beginning up for those who've been waiting for it. This story has Dean/Jo in it, so if you're not a fan this probably isn't the fic for you. That being said, r&r is welcomed and appreciated. The more comments I get the more I'll want to update again. Enjoy!

* * *

They'd been hunting together on the road for 5 years, only occasionally having other people with them for company. So you'd think Sam would be used to his brother and his post hunt habits by now. And yet, he seemed surprised when Dean suggested a post bone burning bar run.

"Seriously Dean? It's past midnight, we've spent the last 3 days investigating a violent haunting, the last day of which resulted in both of us requiring stitches, and we've been digging up a grave for the past hour. We smell like dirt and smoke and human remains. But you want to go party?

Dean took a moment to consider the question before replying.

"Yup. Pretty much."

"You're insane."

"Well, if you don't have the stamina…" Dean let the taunt hang in the air. He could practically hear Sammy grinding his teeth together as his brow furrowed. Dean only grinned. His brother really was so easy. Sam was quiet for a long moment, and Dean turned to grab the shovels and head towards his beloved car.

"Fine, we'll go, but only one beer, no getting drunk. We need to head out of town early tomorrow."

"Well, I'm glad to know I have your permission princess."

"Shut up."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

--

It was a typical bar, like every other bar they'd been to across the country. And they'd been to a lot. There was something comforting about knowing even in Idaho nothing was really that different. Dean ordered beers for both of them before returning to the small table Sam had nabbed. He'd already scanned the bar for the quickest exits and places where one could get trapped, as was his habit, but now he allowed his eyes to wander the scenery. Particularly the scenery that appeared to be single. There were a couple of hot brunettes at the bar. _Could be lesbians though_, he thought, _and I don't want a repeat of last time._ He moved on to the redhead leaning up against the wall near the jukebox, but he made her for a hooker in a heartbeat and kept his eyes moving. Dean Winchester did not pay for sex, and that was just a fact.

As Sam sipped his beer and tried to pretend he was fantasizing about more than a shower and a warm bed, Dean's eye finally landed on a small blond playing pool. Her face was shadowed where she was standing off to the side, but when she came around the table and leaned over to make a shot, giving Dean a lovely view of some of her other attributes, he decided he would risk the hit site unseen. As the blond won and collected money from her surly competitor, he turned to his silent brother.

"Well Sam, you've been excellent company, really, you have. But I'm afraid now is when we part ways. I have places to go, people to do, you know how it is. Enjoy your beer." Sam started to protest, to remind him about needing to leave early in the morning, but, knowing his brother, gave up and didn't even bother to roll his eyes at Dean as he left the table.

Dean ambled slowly over to the pool table, taking his time to appreciate the view when the blond bent over to stick her winnings in her shoe.

"You know, that doesn't look very comfortable. Why don't I win some of that off you and lighten your load." Dean used the full Winchester charm.

"Why gee, what a thoughtful offer…" the blond trailed off as she stood and turned. They both started, starring at each other incredulously.

"Dean?"

"Jo?"

Jesus, he hadn't seen Jo Harvelle in, what, 3 years? 4? He couldn't even remember. He could, however, remember that the last time they'd spoken he had promised to call her when Sammy was un-possessed. He might have been running a bit late on that count.

"Hey, wow. So…it's been awhile Jo……uh…..how've you been?"

Jo took a breath to answer, but just then Sam, who had apparently seen who it really was his brother was attempting to hit on, came over, looking even more like an overgrown puppy than usual. Jo and Sam stood awkwardly, neither actually greeting the other. Dean realized this was the first time they'd seen each other since Sam had attacked her while possessed in Duluth.

"Uh…Jo, guess what. Sam's not possessed anymore! Hey, isn't that great? I mean, I told you I'd let you know, and here I am, fulfilling my duty, so, you know…there's that…" Dean trailed off, realizing he was edging dangerously close to rambling.

"Really Dean? I _never _would have guessed that all on my own" Jo's voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was humor in her eyes and a smile pulling at the corner of her lips, and Dean began to hope he would escape this encounter without being punched in any vital body parts.

"Look, Jo," Sam began hesitantly, "about Duluth. I am so sorr-"

"Sam," Jo cut him off softly before he could finish his apology. "It wasn't your fault. I don't blame you. And you shouldn't blame yourself, OK? I'm fine, you're fine, your brother's still and idiot; things are back to normal with all of us."

"Hey, standing right here."

"Your point?"

Sam laughed at his brother and Jo, and some of the tension eased out of his shoulders.

"Hey, um," Sam interrupted them before a massive bitch session could commence, "do you want to come sit with us and have a drink? It's on me."

Jo hesitated for just a moment.

"Sure." She said with a soft smile.

--

_Well this is awkward_, Jo thought to herself. It hadn't seemed like a big deal, accepting a drink offer from a couple of old friends. But now that they were all sitting down, twiddling their thumbs (literally in Sam's case) she was kind of wishing she had begged off. She doubted they would have argued if she'd said no, but now it was too late. She desperately wanted to be at ease with them, but there was a lot that was unsaid, and now she was stuck here.

Jo settled back in her chair, kicking her legs up onto one of the table cross supports and reclining as far as possible. _I'm here now_, she thought, _and I might as well enjoy the booze_. She tipped her beer bottle back, and noticed Dean's attention shift as she did. She gave him a moment, but when his gaze remained where it had fallen she rolled her eyes and cleared her throat.

"Hey Dean? You think you could stop staring at my breasts? Maybe? Just a suggestion?"

"Interesting getup" he gestured to her admittedly low cut halter with his own beer. "Does your Mom know you've taken up the oldest profession in the world?"

Jo gave him a smile that could cut glass.

"I find it helpful, when hustling pool, to play into the male preconception that women are helpless bimbos who only know how to handle one type of stick."

"Ah, so you need your boobs to win your pool games, got it. Glad we cleared that up"

"Dean!" Sam admonished.

"No, it's fine Sam." Jo's reply was calm. She wondered if Dean had always been this insufferable and she'd never been able to see it past her crush. That certainly wasn't a problem anymore. She was long over Dean Winchester. Hadn't thought of him in years, in fact. _Have his eyes always been that shade of green?_ She found herself pondering his gaze before mentally smacking herself. _Don't go there Jo. That road leads nowhere good_.

"It's fine," she repeated. "In fact, it's perfect. I said helpful, not necessary. You think I can't play the game straight? I'll prove you wrong. Wait here."

With that Jo left the boys to walk over to the crowded coat rack where she'd hung her khaki jacket. Slipping it on, she zipped it as she walked back to them.

"Time to put your money where your mouth is Dean-o. Let's play"

She didn't wait for a response, though she did catch his grin before turning towards the nearest empty pool table.

He passed her a beer and she sipped it slowly while watching him set up. _God, look at that ass. NO! Bad Jo! His ass is not for your perusal, nor is any other part of his well toned, athletic, perfectly tanned body. Damn it!_ Dean's voice broke into her thoughts.

"So are we going to fool around…" Jo choked on her beer, "or are we going to actually play?"

Jo realized she'd been standing doing nothing for quite awhile. Setting her bottle down, she picked up a cue with confidence, matching Dean's quirked eyebrow with a cheshire grin.

"I'll break."

--

_OK_, Dean thought to himself 3 games and 75 later, _maybe she knows what she's doing_. He wondered if pool was another skill she'd cultivated growing up at the Roadhouse. It seemed likely. Even with Jo's jacket zipped to her neck he had found himself checking out her body during their game. _Well so what_, he justified to himself, _she's hot, nothing wrong with noticing. _Her hair was shorter, he had noted. One of the reasons he hadn't recognized her before. It hung straight to just below her shoulders.

"Easier to maintain on a hunt and still long enough to pull back out of the way," she'd told him when he'd asked her about it. It looked good on her.

After Dean finally conceded defeat (or more accurately after Jo finally stopped agreeing to rematches) they'd gone back to sit with Sam. The ice having effectively been broken by Dean's losing, the conversation was far more relaxed.

"So, I take it y'all are still practically living in the Impala, driving around the country and saving the world one damsel in distress at a time?" Sam laughed at her.

"Yeah, I guess you could put it that way. What about you? Still working in bars?"

"Sometimes. If I end up with spare time between hunts and if I strike out hustling pool or poker."

"So you decided to stick with the hunter thing." Dean's tone made Jo look at him curiously.

"Yeah, I did." She paused for a moment, trying to decide how much she wanted to say. In the end she decided it would be best to completely clear the air. "Look, I know I was a pain in the ass when I went hunting with you in Philadelphia. I was inexperienced and stupid, and I ended up giving that ghost one more hostage you had to save. I've been trained now though. Hunter named Marcus Holton agreed to take me under his wing. I sought him out after Duluth, not," she clarified, spying Sam's tensing shoulders, "because I was scared or traumatized, but because I realized how stupid I'd been. To not recognize the mark on your arm when I first saw it? I mean, I knew you were acting strange, I saw you'd been branded, and I still turned my back on you and let my guard down. You hadn't even been at Bobby's for an entire minute when he spiked your beer with holy water."

"How'd you know about that?"

"Bobby called me after you two left. He wanted to make sure I was OK." Dean shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, Jo, I'm sorry about that. It wasn't that we didn't care-"

"I know, Dean. It's OK. I meant what I said before; I don't blame either of you. I wanted to, because being pissed at you guys was easier than feeling helpless. The fact is though, if I was so serious about becoming a hunter, I needed to be able to take care of myself, even when I was taken by surprise, and I wasn't. It made me realize my own limitations and the fact that I wasn't ready to be out hunting on my own with no one watching my back. But it also made me realize how much I still wanted to be a hunter. I wasn't scared off, I didn't have a sudden urge to run back home and be taken care of by my mother, much as she would have loved that. I felt resolved and determined to learn. I didn't want to need to be rescued anymore."

Dean looked at her with a thoughtful expression. _She really is different_, he thought. Earlier, when they had been playing pool, she'd seemed so much the same. Teasing, lighthearted, maybe even flirting a bit. But looking at her now he saw there was more there. There was steel behind her eyes that didn't used to be there.

"Well," Sam said, breaking the silence, and startling Jo and Dean out of staring at each other, "I think it's great. We can always use another hunter out there fighting these things."

"Yeah, great," Dean mumbled. He saw Jo's curious look. "I guess I always thought, or maybe hoped, that you'd go home one day and have a normal life."

"You thought it was a phase?" Dean shrugged her question off.

"Doesn't matter what I thought, does it? You're a full blown hunter now, and you're not dead yet so you're probably not a terrible one. That's sort of the end of it, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it is." The conversation shifted to shop talk after that, and they regaled each other with war stories. After awhile Jo sighed and took one last swig of beer before continuing. "Listen, it's been great seeing you guys again, but I gotta head out early tomorrow, I was just passing through town on my way to a hunt, so, you know…" she trailed off.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. We should be heading out ourselves." Sam got up and walked around the table to hug her lightly. "Glad we saw you Jo." Dean watched his brother say his goodbyes and walk off to pay their tab before he stood up as well.

"I guess we'll see you around Jo."

"Yeah. I guess you will." She turned to leave and Dean hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Hey Jo?" She turned to him, a curious look on her face. He paused in front of her before speaking. "Be careful, OK? Even hunters with years of experience gotta be more careful when they're on their own." She smiled up at him.

"I'm always careful," she said with a wink. "You take care of yourself too Dean." And with that she pulled away and walked out of the bar.

--

By the time Jo got back to her motel room and locked herself in she was dog tired. And also possibly slightly drunk. Deciding she really didn't want to smell the way she smelled now when she woke up (like a grimy, dirty bar) she headed for the bathroom, stopping along the way to take her dad's knife out of her right ankle holster, and her mom's old revolver out of the left one. She set the knife back in her bag but took the revolver with her. Setting it on the toilet, in reach of the tub, she turned on the tap then began to strip down as the bath filled. A shower would have gotten her into bed sooner, but damn if she wasn't a sucker for a nice hot bath.

She took a moment to study her naked body. She looked different then she had the last time she'd seen the Winchesters. She had more muscle now, although she would hardly qualify as a body builder. She also had scars. When she'd first started training under Marcus he'd let her screw up. A lot. Said it was the best way for her to learn and learn fast. There were lots of smaller scars all over, but the worst one was on the small of her back. They'd gone after a vampire nest somewhere in Washington and one of the vamps had managed to get Jo's machete from her. He'd attacked her with it and had cut deep enough to seriously risk her spine. It had been bad, really bad. Ellen had come up from Nebraska to see her in the hospital. They hadn't spoken directly to each other since Jo had gone out on her own and she'd expected her mother to berate her for being careless and order her to come home, but Ellen had just hugged her as hard as she could without hurting her and asked Jo to tell her everything. So she had. Ellen had listened quietly, and although the concern was evident in her eyes she'd said nothing.

Jo had asked her about her new attitude.

"You could have died. And the last thing I would have said to you was 'if you want to hunt, then you'd best leave because you're not doing it under my roof'. I can't stop you Jo, I've accepted that. But if you're going to be putting yourself in danger then I want as much time with my baby girl as I can get. So anytime you want to come home, you just come home. And you tell me what's up and where you are. I don't want you to just disappear one day and I don't even know where to look, OK?"

Jo had been stunned by her mom's change of heart, but it had been so good to have her there. She'd ended up going home with her and finishing her recovery under her mom's watchful eye at the rebuilt Roadhouse. And when she was better and Marcus had come to pick her up to continue their training, her mom had given Jo her old revolver, the first one she'd ever owned. Now Jo always kept it on her, just like her dad's knife.

Breaking out of her memories, Jo turned to the now full tub and got in. It wasn't particularly spacious or luxurious, but it served her purpose and Jo let the warm water wash away the general grime of the bar as her mind shifted to far more recent memories. She'd been shocked to see the Winchesters again, and she wasn't entirely sure what to feel about them.

When Marcus had begun training her body he'd also started counseling her mind. Jo had lied to Sam when she'd said she hadn't been traumatized by the attack. Truth was it had scared her shitless. Marcus helped her work through that, and through her anger at the Winchesters. He'd trained her body so she would feel more in control and less helpless. And he'd trained her mind, with meditation and counseling, to help her move on from the past and let any lingering feelings of resentment go, and helped her to put blame where it really belonged. After awhile she'd been able to admit, to Marcus and herself, that she blamed the Winchesters for a lot of what was wrong in her life because she was scared to think about the people and events that had caused her misery. Mostly she was scared, and ashamed, to admit how much of a part she herself had played in ruining her own life. She'd been angry and petulant and head strong and stupid. So she'd finally accepted that, and put blame for the things that _weren't_ her fault on the shoulders of the people who were really responsible, and in doing so she'd let go of the Winchesters.

It had still startled her to see them again, but especially to see Sam. She was glad Sam hadn't been able to tell. She really did know it wasn't his fault, but his form, his face, was tied to her memories of being tied up and taunted and threatened with a knife, and seeing him again, so unexpectedly, for the first time since Duluth had scared her.

It wasn't like she was terrified of Sam himself. After that first initial tremor she'd gotten her emotions under control. She'd forced herself to interact with him, to say what she knew he needed to hear. And she'd relaxed over the course of the evening. Jo thought she could probably see him again now and not have that reflexive fear.

And then there was Dean. She had been so sure she was over him. When he'd walked out of the bar in Duluth after she pulled the bullet from his shoulder, she had been positive she was never going to see him again. And she hadn't really wanted to. Sure, she'd still been attracted as hell to him, but Sam, possessed or not, had been right. Romance was just out of the question. Dean wasn't the dating type and Jo wasn't entirely sure he didn't think of her as just a little sister. Any romantic fantasies she'd had were just that, fantasies. Seeing him just made it that much easier for her to delude herself into thinking he might like her the same way she liked him, so she'd watched him walk away and she'd tried to never look back. And for the most part she had succeeded. She'd lived her life, hunted, visited her mom, and even dated a bit, not that it had gone well.

But good Lord he had looked good tonight. And now here she was, having a conversation with herself she'd had a thousand times in the past. _Dean Winchester is not the guy for you. But what if he is? No, he's not, it would never work, end of story. But if it did work it could be amazing. You just shut up; it's not worth pining over him because he's never going to feel the same so just shut your hole._

Jo sunk a little lower in the tub, getting drowsy even with her current train of thought. Her eyes closed as she drifted a bit, so she didn't notice at first when the lights began to flicker. When she felt the sudden chill in the room her eyes snapped open and she glanced around, suddenly very alert. As she watched the lights buzz in and out, she slowly rose from the tub and reached for her gun.

--

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thanks for all the feedback so far. Last time I mentioned but didn't thank my awesome beta Becky, so I'm doing that now. Becky rocks.

* * *

Dean drove down the road, humming along with the cassette tape and drumming his fingers along the wheel lightly. Sam was slouched in the passenger seat, asleep, as he had been for the past 80 or so miles. They were on their way to York Nebraska, where a young woman had been found dead in a city park. As her throat had been slit, at first it hadn't seemed like their kind of job. But she was the 4th woman in the state to die in the exact same way in the past 2 months, and when they'd looked closer they'd seen a pattern of demonic omens in each area the day prior to and of the murders.

Seeing a sign telling him they were only a few minutes away, he swatted at his brother.

"Rise and shine princess, time to be professional."

It was about noon when they pulled into the first fast food joint on the edge of town. They hadn't stopped anywhere since early that morning, and Dean refused to start working before he'd eaten.

"Dean, you're going to get old and fat. No human being should be able to eat as much as you do." Sam teased, but in truth he was hungry himself. They got in line at the counter behind a couple of fat tourists and a small blond.

"Dude," Dean grunted, "what the hell's a Runza?"

"How should I know?"

"It's ground beef and cabbage in a bun. They're quite popular around here." Dean and Sam raised their eyebrows as the blond in front of them answered. She turned around and their jaws dropped. "Sam. Dean. Nice to see you." Jo's words were pleasant enough but her tone didn't quite match and annoyance shone in her eyes. "It's been awhile. Let's talk." And with that she turned and walked outside. The boys, after shrugging at each other, followed her over to the edge of the parking lot, away from any other people. She spun on them as soon as they were out of ear shot.

"No, no way. This is not going to happen."

"Wha-"

"I know why you're here, and you might as well just keep on driving. This is my case," Jo cut off Sam's question. "I've been hunting this thing for months now, so don't even think about it." The brothers looked at each other, surprised at the vehemence in Jo's voice.

"We didn't know any other hunters where around Jo. How'd you know about this anyway?" Sam asked.

"What, you think you're the only ones who know how to recognize a demonic omen? I was in the area for the first murder, I saw the signs myself." There was anger in her eyes, and for a moment Dean thought he saw something rather like pain.

"Are you OK?" he asked quietly. She glared at him for a moment and looked like she was going to go off on them again, but she paused and instead let out a long breath and started pacing in front of them.

"No," she said finally. "Yes, god, I don't know." She stopped and faced them. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. Truth is, this thing is kicking my ass, and I'm real tired of following a trail of bodies. I can't seem to get ahead of it. There's no connection that I can see between the victims, no pattern. I can't tell what it's doing or why, I can't tell where it's going to go next." Her frustration was palpable. The boys glanced at each other yet again, and came to a silent agreement.

"Would you maybe like some help?" Sam asked her gently. They could both see Jo was hesitant to accept the offer, but she'd already admitted she wasn't having luck on her own, so at length she nodded slowly.

"'Like' might be putting it strongly, but I suppose my pride would be a pretty stupid reason for more people to get killed. You guys have more demon experience than I do, and you're a fresh set of eyes." She looked at them both, clearly still not happy they were there. "Let's go then." She started walking off towards an older Chevy pickup truck.

"Food." Dean's statement had her pausing and turning back around, her hair blowing in her face until she caught it and tucked it behind her ears.

"What?"

"Food. We were all in a restaurant for a reason before this little powwow, remember? I'm not going anywhere until I get something to eat." Jo rolled her eyes and for a moment it seemed as if she would protest. Even though she'd been about to order when they got there she seemed to have completely forgotten any hunger she might have been feeling. Dean, however, remembered quite acutely that he was starving, and was already walking back inside without waiting for a response. Sam and Jo were close behind.

After the three ordered their food they took it to a back corner booth, as far away from the rest of the patrons as they could get. They ate in silence for awhile, and Dean took the opportunity to study Jo. It had been two and a half months since they'd seen Jo at that bar in Idaho. She looked good, great in fact. She'd always looked good to him, not that he'd ever acted on it. She was different than the other girls Dean had found himself attracted to. She wasn't the kind of girl guys used for a quick cheap thrill. He'd thought of her a few times since the night at the bar; worried about her being off hunting on her own. He knew it was stupid, she'd been hunting on her own before and she'd been fine, nothing had changed except now he knew about it. So he'd told himself he was being stupid and overprotective. Now he wondered if he had been right to worry. Something was different about her. She seemed harder, somehow. The Jo from the bar had been tougher, but she'd still had her softness. She'd been flirtatious and a little silly. She'd smiled and laughed and teased. The Jo that sat before them seemed more closed off. She wasn't smiling, she wasn't laughing. In fact, she seemed almost angry at something. Dean wondered what exactly had happened since the last time they'd seen her to change her. Sam excused himself to use the restroom before they headed out, and Dean took the opportunity presented to him.

"What happened," he asked bluntly. She sighed.

"Use your big boy words Dean. What are you talking about?"

"Do you think because I don't see you that often that I can't tell when you're off? Something's got you spooked or upset or pissed off or _something_, and I'd like to know what."

"Why would you care-"

"I care," he cut her off, "because you and your mom, you were like family to me and Sam when we were going through a hard time. You guys had our backs. Now I want to have yours. So tell me. What happened?" Jo looked at him for a moment, then turned her head to stare out the window in contemplative silence. Dean waited with uncharacteristic patience. When she faced him again she seemed to be fighting with herself over what to say. "Come on," he said softly, putting one hand over hers, "it's me. You know you can trust me." She smiled at him.

"Always gotta help the damsel in distress, huh." Dean grinned at her, but her smile faded and she took a deep breath. "Look, Dean, I'm real grateful you want to help and all, but it isn't something I'm ready to talk about, OK? Something happened to me, and yeah, I guess you could say it...effected me in a big way. It's just….I'm not ready, OK?

"Wrong place, wrong time?" Jo smiled at the repeat of her own words from a long time ago. She placed her other hand on top of his.

"Thanks anyway." Dean wasn't ready to let it go completely, but he figured he wasn't going to get anything out of her just yet, so they pulled apart, gathered their empty food trays, and stood to leave just as Sam emerged from the restroom.

"About time Sammy. Your hair looked fine before you know; you didn't need to spend half an hour primping."

"Shut up Dean." Dean grinned at his brother.

"Hey, not my fault you're such a girl." Jo laughed at both of them, and Dean was relieved to hear it. _So she's not totally damaged_, he thought. "Hey, we'll follow you to the motel you're staying at, OK?"

"Sure, it's not far from here."

--

Sam was able to get them a room next to Jo's, and the three convened in there to go over what they had so far. Jo, having spent the most time with the evidence, took the lead.

"OK, here's what we know. First victim, Sara Hiatt, age 24, had her throat slashed two months ago in her home in Washington, NE. The doors were locked from the inside including a chain that was still latched, there were no signs of forced entry on any door or window, no other physical evidence of any kind. None of her neighbors saw or heard anything. Mailman happened to glance in a window the next day and saw the blood. Second victim, Erin Ford, age 37, killed the same way six weeks ago at her office in Saint Edward. All of the security cameras failed five minutes prior to her time of death, and the only security guard on duty was too busy trying to fix them to see if anyone came in or out.

"She had a husband, but none of the others did, right?"

"That's right. Husband called into the office in the morning when he woke up and she wasn't home. When she didn't answer her phone he called the security office, thinking she must have fallen asleep; asked the guard to go check on her and wake her up. Guard found her slumped over in a pool of blood. The third victim was Jade Norman, 17. Throat slit 4 weeks ago while she was walking home in Wisner. The police are calling it a mugging gone wrong."

"I talked to her sister a couple of days ago." Sam offered. "She said Jade didn't carry any cash on her ever, and all her cards were still there. The only thing she could tell was missing was a necklace she'd gotten for her birthday that she apparently never took off, and it had more sentimental value than monetary."

"Right again. The sister filed a similar statement with the police, they just told her the mugger must not have known she wouldn't have cash and didn't want to risk cards that could be tracked. They're still investigating, but it's pretty cold. Our fourth victim was killed here in York 12 days ago. Marisa Johnson, 27, bought it while taking a scenic walk in Beaver Creek Park. A younger couple found her while walking their dogs early in the morning."

"So what we're looking at," Dean summed up, "is four women killed with the exact same method, with no evidence left behind except the body. They were all different ages, lived in different towns, were born in different towns, had different careers. Pretty much the only things they have in common are cause of death and the fact that weird clouds and electrical failures were reported all over their respective towns the nights before and of their murders."

"That's about the gist of it. I've only been here since yesterday. Took me awhile to sort through weather patterns and murder reports to find the right town to head to next. The only kind of pattern that I can see so far is that each murder took place exactly two weeks, to the day, from the one prior to it, but I haven't been able to find any rituals or anything else where a two week time frame means anything. Sound familiar to either of you?"

"No," Sam said while leaning over the table and studying the documents they'd spread out. Sam had gotten quite a bit of info calling various sources before they headed into town, but Jo had managed to get crime scene photos and official police reports for each of the first three murders.

"I'm going to head down town and see if I can't nab more information on this particular murder."

"We'll come with you," Dean automatically offered. She smiled at him.

"Thanks for the escort offer, but I managed the first three on my own, and since you two are both wanted criminals who are supposed to be dead I'm guessing walking into a cop shop in broad daylight might not be the best plan. Don't worry, it won't take me long. I'm sure you two can think of something else to do to fill the time while I'm gone."

"We'll go over these police reports and photos. They've got more detail than what we knew before, and like you said, we're fresh eyes. We might spot something you missed or wouldn't know to look for."

"Thanks Sam. I know I was bitchy before, but if it means putting a stop to this thing, then I really am glad you guys are here."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I've been totally blown away by the positive feedback I've been getting. The night I posted the first chapter I actually had nightmares about people just completely disliking it (yeah, I have really lame nightmares), so I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying it. Thanks to everyone who's leaving reviews, I know I don't respond individually like some authors do but, well, I'm lazy. Just know that I appreciate it quite a bit if/when you do take the time to let me know how you're feeling about it. I have a free night tonight and I'm hoping to finish rewriting the ending. If I do I should be able to continue updated once a day. If not the updates will probably slow down. But I'll try not to make you wait to long.

* * *

Jo, true to her word, wasn't gone long. She came back after about an hour, carrying crime scene photos and a police report. She also had pie. Dean felt an overwhelming burst of affection for the blond hunter when he saw the food. She served him up a piece on a paper plate.

"Knowing your appetite I figured you'd probably be getting hungry again soon. Thought this might make you happy."

"Oo fough righ," Dean said with his mouth full. They stepped back over to Sam, sitting at the table with his own piece of pie.

"I didn't find anything useful either. The victims seem to be almost randomly chosen, and without any kind of pattern we can't predict where it will head next. Did you find anything new at the police station?" Jo set the files she'd brought with her down in front of Sam and he began leafing through the new photos.

"Nothing that jumps out at me. Got a few more details. The victim was walking in the park trying to cool down after she left a family reunion because of an argument that had broken out over her chosen profession of stripper. Seems that wasn't a very popular choice with her Lutheran kin. Police are taking a hard look at a couple of her extended family members, but I think we all know they won't be finding any evidence linking any one of them." The three of them mulled it over on silence for awhile, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

Dean was struck at how easy Jo seemed to fit into the hunt. They'd done cases with other hunters in the past, but somehow he'd never been able to picture Jo as a fully trained hunter. The only other time they'd hunted she'd been completely inexperienced, and he hadn't pictured hunting with her again as going so smoothly. He wasn't sure exactly how he _had_ pictured hunting with her again, but this wasn't it. Despite his misgivings about her current emotional state, she was calm, in control, and very matter of fact. Dean felt comfortable having her around. They were all just sitting there together, looking over pictures of dead bodies like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Hey," Sam said suddenly, breaking into Dean's thoughts, "I think I recognize this." He was pointing out something on one of the crime scene photos Jo had just retrieved. Dean leaned closer to get a better look. It was a necklace, a circular amulet made of either flat stone or a piece of wood, it was hard to tell. There was a symbol carved into it; it consisted only of lines with no real recognizable shape, but the effect was almost insect like.

"I don't recognize that symbol, does it mean something to you?" he asked his brother.

"By itself, I have no idea what it could mean. But look here." Sam grabbed another photograph from a different file. "The second victim, Erin, she was wearing a necklace just like it." He pointed to the photo, and sure enough, when Dean and Jo leaned in closer they could see it, almost obscured by her shirt collar and the angle of her body. "It's not much," Sam continued, "but it's something. Something that connects two of our victims is way more than we had before."

"Maybe more than two," Dean said thoughtfully. Sam and Jo looked at him. "Didn't that one chick who bought it walking home- the one that's being called a mugging- didn't she have a necklace stolen from her?"

"You're right, let me call the sister, ask her what the necklace looked like." As Sam walked off with his phone, Jo looked at Dean with a bemused expression.

"So what cover is he using that this woman is going to answer his questions and not get freaked out?"

"I think he posed as a private detective when he talked to her last time. Something about similar unsolved crimes and some wealthy family hiring him to finish what the police didn't seem to want to finish." Jo had been shifting through other photos while Dean talked. She nodded absently at his explanation then paused on a photo and studied it closely.

"Dean, look here. It's from the first crime scene, Sara Hiatt's murder. Do you see what I see?" The photo wasn't of the body but of the surrounding room. Dean followed Jo's finger to a side table next to the couch. There, nestled amongst other crap, was a necklace identical to the ones owned by Marisa Johnson and Erin Ford.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said under his breath. He looked up at Jo, their faces close as they both leaned over the photo. "I think we found our pattern."

"Jade's sister Gail confirmed the description of the missing necklace. Three of our victims owned that piece." Sam slipped his phone back in his pocket as he rejoined them and started to fiddle with his laptop.

"Make that four for four." Dean said and handed his brother the photo he and Jo had been studying. "Now tell me the sister knew where the victim got the necklace."

"Said their mother bought it for her as a present. Got it from some store called Fair Bijou, in Lincoln." Sam was typing as he spoke. "Looks like they have a website. Seems like a pretty standard gift shop type place, nothing unusual about it." Jo raised an eyebrow.

"Were you expecting the site to have a section labeled 'Evil Occult Items'?" He glanced up at her.

"Well, it _would_ have been helpful." Jo smirked at Sam's sarcasm. "I guess we'll have to go there. We've only got 2 days until the next murder if the demon keeps to his time line. Maybe we'll luck out and find something that points us to the next victim _before_ she becomes a victim. How far is Lincoln from York?"

"Not far, let me check the map for exact mileage." Jo, the native Nebraskan of the bunch pulled a folded up map from their pile of papers. When she unfolded it Dean saw she had marked each of the murder sites with an X. "It should only take about an hour to get there." She started to fold up the map but Dean stopped her.

"Uh, guys, I think we have a serious problem on our hands." Sam and Jo looked at him and waited for him to explain. "Maybe it's just a coincidence, but I'm kind of doubting it. If the final victim is in Lincoln, or if that city holds any significant to this thing, then…" as he trailed off he picked up a pen and played connect the dots with the murder sites and Lincoln.

"Shit."

"Yup."

"So what does this mean?" Jo asked, the three of them staring down at the perfect pentagram formed by the five cities. Dean looked up at Jo.

"I have no fucking clue."

--

Since the store in question would be closed by the time they hit Lincoln, and since they'd already paid for their motel rooms for the night, the three hunters agreed to stay in York. No one particularly liked the delay, but even if they rushed off to Lincoln immediately they wouldn't be able to do anything more that night, except have to pay for another motel. They grabbed a quick dinner at a local diner and after making plans to head out early the next morning the brothers said goodnight and headed back to their own room. Dean flopped onto his bed while Sam sat down with his ever present computer. After several minutes of silence Sam spoke without looking up.

"OK, you're not listening to music, watching TV, cleaning weapons, or annoying me. What's wrong?"

"I'm just thinking." Sam looked up at that.

"Really? You? Huh, I guess miracles really do happen." Dean's only response was to throw a pillow, which Sam easily dodged. "Seriously Dean, what's on your mind?"

"Does Jo seem different to you?" Sam seemed to consider his question for a moment.

"I suppose, maybe. But, I mean, it's not like we know her all that well. Maybe this is just how she is now." Dean heard something in his brother's voice that made him sit up.

"What," he asked him.

"What do you mean?" Sam looked at him defensively.

"Like I don't know you well enough to know when _you're_ acting weird." Sam looked at him seriously.

"Well, if she is different, from how she used to be, what if it's because of me?" he asked quietly. "Because of how much time she's had to spend with me and because of what I did to her-"

"_You_ didn't do anything to her, and she knows that Sam." He shifted a little closer to his brother and sighed. "Look, I know we never really talked a lot about what happened-"

"Because you're emotionally retarded and hate discussing personal feelings."

"OK, true. But I know being around Jo this much might be bringing up some stuff you never really dealt with. And I'm here, you know, if you really need to talk. Just…don't start crying or anything."

"What about you, mister sensitivity. You're the one that brought this all up. Why are you thinking about Jo and how she's behaving?" Dean saw Sam suddenly grin and his back automatically stiffened. _I know that look, that look is not a good sign_.

"You're _worried_ about her, aren't you?"

"No," Dean automatically denied.

"Yeah, you so totally are. You _care_ about her!" Sam was positively beaming at this point, and Dean had a strong desire to hit him.

"Shut up and be serious for a minute, OK? Something really seems off with her. I mean, not all of the time. Sometimes she seems just fine. But then she'll get this look in her eye. I don't know man; I can't get it out of my head. Something's different. I asked her about it and she said something happened but she wouldn't tell me what."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. You asked- _you,_ Dean Winchester- asked a woman about her feelings?" This time Dean actually did smack him, in the arm, but Sam just laughed at him.

"I'm sorry Dean, I just…this is highly entertaining for me, and would be for _anyone_ who knows you. Seeing you worry about someone other than me and your car, and you being so clearly confused by it. It's the most fun I've had in weeks." The haunted look that had briefly entered Sam's face when the Duluth incident was brought up was gone completely now, and Dean could at least be happy about that.

"You're telling me she seems totally fine to you?"

"I don't know, I guess so. I mean, sure maybe she's a bit more serious, but this is a pretty nasty demon we're hunting, and she's been trying to stop it for months with no success. She's probably just stressed."

"Yeah, yeah I guess." Dean wasn't convinced at all, but he decided to drop it before Sam started teasing him again. He wasn't completely sure what it was that made him so positive that something wasn't right, but he kept finding himself thinking back to their goodbye back at the bar in Idaho. When he'd told her to be careful and she'd winked at him. The very first time they'd met they'd both agreed to being attracted to each other, but he'd distanced himself since then, and it had seemed Jo had too. But back at that bar there had been a gleam in her eye when she winked at him that made him think maybe there was still something between them. Now when she looked at him there was a different kind of gleam in her eyes. Something that made Dean want to squirm. It wasn't quite anger, it wasn't quite hate, and yet it was both of those things. He would catch it out of the corner of his eyes and by the time he looked at her fully it was gone and she was giving him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Dean was a little worried she might have found out his dad had done something else even worse than getting her dad killed. He had to imagine whatever it was that had happened to her involved the Winchester family somehow, because she wasn't looking at other people with that gleam in her eye. Dean sighed and rubbed his hands across his face. _This is why it's just supposed to be Sammy and me_, he thought. _Other people are just too much fucking work to figure out._


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thanks for the continued reviews. I'm pretty close to finishing off the new ending, so I should be able to keep updating regularly. Looks like it's going to be about 8 chapters in the end.

* * *

The next morning the three hunters checked out, loaded their gear into their vehicles, and prepared for the short road trip.

"Stay close to the Impala, I don't need you getting lost," Dean counseled Jo. She gave him a decidedly sarcastic smile.

"Gee Dean, an hour long drive in my native state, following one road almost the whole way? I'm _so_ glad you're here to guide me." She turned and opened the door to her truck.

"Yeah, well….you're welcome," he offered as a comeback. Cringing at his own lameness he climbed into the Impala next to his brother. Sam was just staring at him.

"What? God, blink or something." An infuriating grin spread over Sam's face. "Shut up," Dean snapped.

"I didn't say anything."

"Well don't _think_ at me in that annoying tone of voice."

"I didn't say anything," Sam repeated.

"So I wanted to make sure we stayed together, so what. I know she knows how to get there; there's nothing wrong with making sure we get there at the same time. I mean, we didn't pick a specific motel, what if we got to town at different times and ended up driving all over trying to find each other. Huh? What then Sammy?"

"I. Didn't. Say. Anything." Sam was now looking anywhere but Dean, and Dean could have sworn his brother was trying to smother laughter. He cranked the radio and pulled out of the parking lot. Jo followed close behind and it wasn't long 'till they were on the Interstate heading straight for Lincoln.

--

The three converged at a motel near the downtown portion of the city, only a short drive away from where the shop was located. Hauling their duffel bags with them they went into the small, cramped lobby and requested two rooms.

"Sorry," the old man behind the counter wheezed, "only got one room left." Dean hesitated, but before he could make up his own mind Jo was telling the man they would take it. When they got to the room Dean and Sam looked at her awkwardly.

"What?" she asked confused. "Did you really want to waste more time looking for another motel? I'll sleep on the floor; it's not a big deal."

"_I'll_ take the floor," Dean said quickly.

"Of _course_ you will," Jo shook her head at his ridiculous and unnecessary chivalry.

The three dropped the issue of sleeping arrangements in favor of stowing the gear they wouldn't need for the first errand of the day. Leaving Jo's truck behind, they all drove together in the Impala. The section of town where the shop was located was an older area called the Haymarket. Dean, after finally figuring out all the insane one way streets between their motel and their destination, parked the Impala in an lot under a bridge and plugged the meter while his companions looked around.

"Interesting place," Sam said. The three walked down the street, gazing at the old fashioned brick buildings as they went. It took them several minutes but they finally found the building in which Fair Bijou was located. They reached the shop and by unspoken agreement split into two groups. Jo headed off to speak to a sales clerk while Sam and Dean went to the front register, to the woman there that Dean recognized as the owner from a photo on the store's website.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" the friendly, portly woman asked.

"I certainly hope so ma'am," Dean said, laying on the charm. "See, my brother here, he's looking for a gift for his girlfriend, over there," Dean pointed at Jo, who was speaking pleasantly with a girl her own age, while Sam stepped on his foot, "and he saw this one necklace on a woman at a restaurant the other day that would be just what he's looking for. We were told it was sold here. It's some kind of amulet with this symbol carved on it" Dean handed her a piece of paper with a sketched version of the mystery symbol.

"Oh yes, a lovely necklace, isn't it? So _exotic_," she said with a wink. "But I'm afraid I'm out at the moment."

"Oh really? That's a shame. Sammy here really wanted one." Dean leaned in conspiratorially. "He says it's for his girl, but me personally, I think he wants one for himself." Sam was now grinding his heel into Dean's foot, but he nodded at the saleswoman with a sheepish grin.

"Oh dear, I do hate to disappoint you like that. That particular item is made by a local craftswoman named Sheryl, a sweet elderly thing. She only makes a few at a time. I'm not set to get more in for another month I'm afraid."

"Oh no. A month? Gosh, we're only going to be in town for another week." Dean pretended to mull the problem over for a minute. "Say, do you have a phone number for Sheryl? We could call her up; see if she'd be willing to make a special order."

"Well sure, she left some business cards with her last batch. Let's see, where did I put those…" While the friendly owner turned to search through the drawers behind her Sam turned to his brother. _I'm going to kill you_, he mouthed silently.

"Don't worry Sammy," Dean said out loud, "we'll get you that necklace yet." He clapped Sam on the back and grinned evilly. _You can try_, he added silently. The brothers turned back to the woman as she turned around.

"Here we go." She handed Dean a small business card. "Since the young man seems so set on having that necklace for himself would you like to look at some other jewelry selections for the young lady?"

"Oh that's OK, thank you ma'am. I'm pretty sure she knew when we came in here Sam was going to get it himself. She's used to it." With a wink to the owner and his brother shooting daggers at the back of his head Dean turned and headed for the door. "Go grab your woman Sammy, we've still got that pottery shop you wanted to check out." Aware the owner was still watching, Sam lumbered awkwardly over to Jo.

"Come on…sweetie. Time to go." He gestured vaguely toward the door. Jo looked at him bemusedly.

"OK…dear. Sure thing." She turned back to the sales clerk she'd been speaking with. "It was lovely talking with you." They three walked out together, and Jo only barely managed to suppress her snort of laughter.

"Sweetie?"

"Don't ask," Sam grumbled under his breath while Dean grinned to himself. _Shouldn't have laughed Sammy_.

"OK, awkward pet names aside, I didn't get much. Clerk's never seen or heard anything out of the ordinary and thinks her boss is a Saint. Tell me you got more." Dean tossed her the card. "That's certainly more." They climbed into the Impala while Sam filled her in more completely and Jo handed the card back to Dean. "So what's the plan, we going to call her up and ask her if she's a demon?"

"I thought something more subtle, like paying her a visit so we can look around her house for more evidence."

"Great idea Sammy. Only one problem. We don't have an address." Dean threw the car in reverse and pulled out of the slot while he talked.

"I think I can track one down using this phone number. I'm going to have to go to the phone company though."

"Great, where is it."

"You know Dean? I think I can handle this one on my own. Wouldn't want you telling them about my jewelry fetish, now would I?" Dean smirked as his brother continued. "Let's go get lunch for now; I can drop you and Jo off at the motel on the way to the phone company afterwards. You guys can entertain yourselves for an afternoon, right?"

--

Dean and Jo were sitting in silence cleaning their weapons; Sam had dropped them off only a little while ago, saying it might take him as long as a few hours. Dean kept throwing glances at Jo when she wasn't looking. She was back to being melancholy and stiff, and Dean was back to worrying about her.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said without looking up from the knife she was sharpening.

"I'm not looking at you like anything."

"Bullshit Dean."

"Fine, you want me to stop? Tell me what happened to you. You were fine in Idaho, so it must have been since then."

"Why are you pushing this," she snapped, putting the weapon down. "I said I wasn't ready to talk about it, why isn't that good enough."

"Because I'm worried about you!" he snapped right back. "OK? And it sucks, because I'm not used to worrying about anyone but my brother, and I don't like that I keep thinking about you and whether or not you're OK. All I know is that every instinct I have is telling me that something is wrong, and I want you to trust me enough to tell me what it is, because I care about you and I want you to be happy again." Dean sat back, surprised he'd let himself say so much. Jo was looking at him with a very different kind of gleam in her eye now. Before Dean could process what the look meant she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. She'd leaned back again before Dean had time to react.

"Thank you for worrying about me." With that she got up to take her pile of sharpened knives and return them to her bag. Dean sat stunned, the feel of her lips still tingling along his. Without giving his brain time to over-think things he stood and walked over to her. He spun her around and crushed his lips to hers. She reacted with the same heat, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his while his hands roamed her back and tangled in her hair. Dean's brain continued to be a foggy haze as her hands pushed his over shirt off his shoulders and began to pull his T-shirt over his head.

"Wait, wait." He gasped weakly as Jo ran her hands over his bare stomach.

"Shhhh," she breathed into his neck, and Dean lost all ability to think. He held her face in his hands and kissed her as he backed her against the wall. He pinned her there and pulled her black tank top over her head, leaving her in only her bra and jeans.

"You know, I'm not sure this is what Sammy meant when he told us to entertain ourselves."

"Dean," Jo said, reaching behind her to unhook her bra, "let's not talk about your brother right now, OK?" And with that she dropped the garment, and any self control Dean might have had stashed away vanished as it hit the floor.

--

Afterwards Dean lay on his back with one arm wrapped around Jo as she snuggled into his side. They were both silent, each lost in thought.

"So," Dean ventured, "that was fun." Jo snorted.

"Very smooth, and not awkward at all Winchester." He grinned down at her and she pushed up to give him a lingering kiss. Dean pouted when she stood up.

"You got somewhere to be?"

"No, but unless you want your brother walking in on us stark naked we might want to start cleaning up."

"Oh. Right." Dean watched her walk towards the bathroom, admiring the view as she went. Having sex with Jo had been _extremely_ satisfying, but he hadn't failed to notice she'd once again dodged answering his questions. He got up when he heard the shower turn on, and by the time she came out again Dean was fully dressed and was finishing wiping down his favorite pistol. She'd taken the time to blow dry her hair so Sam wouldn't wonder why she was wet. Walking over to the table to pick up a rag and fiddle with it she smiled down at him but before he could say anything they heard a key in the lock.

"Glad he wasn't any earlier," Jo said with a wink. Dean gave her a brief grin before putting on a blank mask for his brother's benefit.

"OK, I have an address. And you do _not_ want to know what I had to do to get this, believe me." Sam stripped off his jacket as he talked, throwing it over a chair back before looking up at his two current roommates. "So, you two do anything interesting while I was gone?"

"Oh, you know," Jo said breezily, leaning on hip against the wall, "we just cleaned our weapons. Making sure we don't have any misfires or blockages." Dean was quick to turn his snort into a cough. Sam narrowed his eyes at them, but Dean just stared back with innocent eyes.

"Uh, OK. Great. Are you guys ready to go then? This lady's house is just on the edge of town. She's actually out in the country just a bit, not many neighbors around. I don't think we need to wait for nightfall."

"Great," Dean said sincerely. "The sooner we figure out what the hell is up with these necklaces and this symbol the sooner we can find this dick and kill it."

"You have such a way with words."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I decided to combine chapters 5 and 6, so there will only be 7 chapters not 8. I had them split originally because of a cliffhanger, but they were both so short on their own that it really wasn't worth it. To top it off I have midterms next week, so I'm going to post the last two chapters tomorrow so I can concentrate on studying. Thanks again to my beta Becky and to everyone who's been leaving me such awesome feedback.

* * *

The house was a renovated farm house, not quite as secluded as it had been before the city expanded but still with plenty of privacy. Dean drove the Impala up the dusty driveway as they all peered around them. There were a few other houses down the road but none would have a clear view past the box hedges that stood sentinel on either side of the house. A wide porch wrapped around the whole thing.

The three got out of the Impala and looked around. No one worked outside in the garden or near the shed. No one peaked out from behind the curtains to see what the noise of the slamming car doors was. Dean turned to the others.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home." They walked up the stone walkway and knocked on the door. When no one answered Dean reached into his pocket for his lock pick set, but Sam put a hand on his arm.

"Wait," he said quietly, jerking his head toward the driveway where a young woman was walking her dog towards them.

"Can I help you people?" she asked.

"You live here?"

"No sir, I live down the road a bit, saw you as I was passing by. You got business with Sheryl?" She was young, maybe mid twenties, short and brunette. She didn't raise the volume of her voice at all, but it was strong and firm and made clear she wouldn't settle for less than a straight answer.

"We're looking to talk to her about some of that jewelry she makes."

"I'm sorry; I think she's out of town for the next few days. You'll just have to come back then." The woman was clearly suspicious and had planted her feet, obviously not intending to move until the three had left.

"Well OK, thanks for letting us know. We'll just have to come back to talk to her when she gets back." Sam led the trio back to the car. "Guess we're coming back after dark after all."

--

Sam sat back and sipped his soda. The three were killing time until the sun went down and they could risk going back to break in. Dean and Jo were being oddly silent, but kept casting glances at each other that Sam couldn't quite interpret. Dean excused himself to get a milkshake for the road and left Sam and Jo sitting across from each other.

He still felt bad about how they'd left things after Duluth. It wasn't that he was still consciously blaming himself, but it was in his nature to want to help people, and he didn't know how to help Jo. He didn't know if he should say anything or just let it go like she seemed to want to do, but Dean was right, he was realizing. She was acting a bit off. Her moods seemed to shift very suddenly lately and without warning, and he still wasn't sure it didn't have something to do with being around him. She seemed extraordinarily tense, even beyond what Sam would expect under the circumstances. _ There's more to her involvement with this case_, Sam thought. _She'd said she'd been in the area for the first murder. Maybe she knew one of the victims. Personal involvement could definitely screw with her head. But why wouldn't she have just told us?_

"Are you OK?" he asked her gently.

"Seriously?" she asked back. "I mean, really? You too? Do I have 'ask me intrusive questions' tattooed on my forehead? I swear, between you and Dean…I…" she trailed off and took a deep breath, continuing with a much softer, almost contrite tone. "I'm grateful that you're both so concerned, but I would really appreciate it if we didn't keep bringing this up, OK?" Sam gave her a sheepish grin as apology and offered her some fries. Dean came back sipping on his treat.

"Mmmmm milkshake. So are we ready to go? I think we should head back to the motel, get our stuff together." They threw out their trash, walked back across the street to their rooms, and gathered their weapons quickly and efficiently. Dean had the Colt, Sam had Ruby's knife, Jo had an old revolver which Dean was gentlemanly enough to load and hand to her while she helped Sam bless some holy water to take with them.

Though it pained Dean greatly they all piled into Jo's truck for the trip. The Impala had already been seen by Sheryl's nosey neighbor and if she recognized it in the area after she'd told them there was no reason for them to be there they could have trouble. And Dean would never knowingly risk his baby like that. For added precaution, they pulled off onto a back road a few miles away and coated half the license plate in mud, obscuring it from anyone happening to glance out a window in a way that would look accidental if they happened to pass a police officer. Jo cut the headlights when they were half a mile away and turned quietly into the driveway. She drove past the end and jerked the wheel around, pulling as much of the truck as possible behind a line of bushes.

Dean glanced around before giving the all clear and the three rushed onto the covered porch that ran around the house, and up to the terrace doors, which faced away from the road and therefore were harder to for anyone else to see. Sam made quick work of the locks and they dashed inside quickly, but they came to a halt before they had even had time to shut the doors behind them.

"Oh God," Sam said under his breath.

"I guess Sheryl didn't go out of town after all," Dean added. The body of the old woman was lying in the middle of a large living/dinning room that led into the kitchen. She was laying face up, her eyes unseeing and her throat slashed. As they stared down at her the doors snapped shut behind them and locked of their own accord.

"Okaaayy, I think we might be heading in the right direction." Dean's senses were on high alert. He and Sam stepped closer to the body to examine it while Jo walked away from them to study something on the far wall.

"Do you think she wore her own jewelry? I mean, if she didn't does her death still finish off the pentagram?"

"I don't know Dean. We should look around the house; see if we can't find any clues as to what the hell that symbol means."

"You can't leave," Jo said without turning around. Sam glanced at her briefly.

"Well, the outside doors are sealed, but I think we can still get elsewhere _within _the house."

"I think you misunderstood me." The boys looked up sharply at the sound of a gun being cocked. Jo stood before them, her revolver drawn, pointed straight at Sam's chest. "You're not going anywhere."

"What's going on?" Sam asked pleadingly. "What are you doing Jo?"

"I lied, Sam," she said, her voice low and calm. "I lied. I do blame you. What you did to me? That was unforgivable. And what you're going to do is even worse. I can't let that happen."

"What are you talking about Jo, Sam was possessed, and you know that, and how in god's name could you know what he's _going _to do? Just put the gun down."

"Why should I listen to you? You just stood there while he had a knife to my throat, and you lowered your gun. You would have let him kill me. No Dean, my gun stays where it is. He's too dangerous. He could have fought it, but he didn't. He let that thing hurt me."

"Jo, I didn't, I swear. I tried, I tried to stop, but she was too strong. I'm so sorry, please. Please put the gun down."

"No."

"What happened Jo?" Dean spoke up. "What happened to you? You said something happened to change you, tell me what it was. Tell us what happened that changed your mind about blaming us. And why do you think Sam is going to do something."

"I saw." Jo's voice was shaky now, her hand slightly less steady as it leveled her pistol.

"You saw what?" Sam asked. Jo seemed almost in tears now. "What did you see Jo?"

"YOU!" she shouted. "What you become. I saw what's inside you, I saw you give in. I was shown, and now I have to stop it. Before it's too late."

"What the hell are you talking about Jo? How could you have seen that? Who, or what, showed you? " Dean demanded.

"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore, nothing except killing him before he can become that monster. I know you can't do it Dean, I've seen that you can't. So I'm going to do it for you."

"Why now. Why are you doing this now, in the middle of a hunt with god knows what about to happen? We need to stop this thing, Jo, we need to stop whatever it is that…" Dean trailed off in horror. "Is there even a demon Jo?"

"I needed you to come to me. I needed you to think it was your idea so you'd let me get close and you'd let your guard down."

"So you killed those people? Jesus Christ Jo. And what about us, you and me, huh? What about earlier, at the hotel? You slept with me knowing you were going to kill us? Was that just so 'I'd let my guard down'?" Dean asked bitterly. Sam glanced at him sharply at the news, but said nothing.

"I loved you Dean. I _loved_ you. But you'll always protect him first, won't you. You'll never be able to admit that he needs to be put down."

"I can't let you do this."

"It's not your choice." And with that she turned her eyes back to Sam and took aim. Dean lunged for her, managing to knock her arm away so the bullet grazed by Sam's shoulder, only barely nicking him. They struggled for control of the weapon, but Dean was able to twist the gun away before she could get off any more shots. He tossed the gun in Sam's direction so he'd have both hands free to fight, managing to get behind her and wrapping his arms around her, trying to use his size and strength to subdue her without causing her harm. He didn't want to hurt her unless he had too, still holding out hope that they could find out what had screwed with her head and help her.

Jo grabbed his hands and pulled them away from her body easily, spinning fast to deliver a punch that sent him flying. Sam came to his side to help him up, and together they turned to face the angry woman where she stood before them. Dean didn't hesitate, pulling out the Colt as soon as he was steady and pointing it squarely at her.

"Jo may be stronger now that she's trained, but there's no way in hell she's strong enough to toss my ass across a room like that. You're not Jo."

The angry, tearful expression remained for a few heartbeats, but then an evil smile crept across her face. She blinked slowly, and when she opened her eyes again they had bled to demonic black.

"Very good Dean. I guess I underestimated your intelligence. Although you can't really blame me, can you?" She gave a short laugh. "Hello boys. It's been awhile."

"Meg."


	6. Chapter 6

"Well well. Now I'm doubly impressed. How'd you know it was me?"

"Only one demon I can think of who would go to all this trouble to screw with us instead of just killing us outright."

"What can I say? You're just fun to play with."

"So what, you wanted us to die feeling betrayed? Was that your big master plan?"

"Well, Sam was going to die feeling betrayed _and_ guilty. _You_ were going to have to kill poor Jo in self defense just in time for me to reveal myself. Then you'd get to live the rest of your miserable life with your brother dead and the guilt of having killed the woman who was probably your best chance at a meaningful relationship. You really should hear her thoughts about you Dean. She's in love but determined not to be. It would be cute if it wasn't so sickening."

"And the people you murdered?" Sam asked, speaking up for the first time since Dean had pointed the Colt at her.

"Like I said before, I needed you to let your guard down. What better way than to go hunting together. That and I was bored. And nothing cures boredom like a little multiple homicide. I admit I was a bit disappointed it took you so long. I was hoping you'd show up at least a week ago so we _really_ would have had time to bond. Would have made it much more entertaining when "Jo" murdered you. Well, entertaining for me anyway."

"You psychotic bitch. You've been inside her the whole time."

"Now now, is there really a need for name calling? Of course I've been using her the whole time. I'd been watching you for while, trying to decide exactly how I wanted to ruin you. Then I saw you two chuckleheads boozing it up with her in Idaho I just knew I was going to have a good time. I gotta say, even with this alternate ending, I haven't been disappointed." She stopped, tilting her head to the side at him and grinned infuriatingly. "What bothers you more Dean? Knowing you had sex with a demon and liked it or knowing Jo never gave her consent so you basically raped her." She took a step towards them and Dean cocked his gun; disgust and pain ripped through him. He was fighting not to be sick.

"Are you going to shoot me Dean? You'd kill Jo. That's the way these things work, you know that. A life for a life, a human has to die for a demon to die. Got to have balance in the world after all. Are you willing to do that to get rid of me once and for all?" Dean's head was swirling, desperately trying to figure something out.

"Come on boys, go ahead and kill me. I'll even give you a free shot. You've got the Colt _and_ the knife, the only two weapons on Earth that can kill me; wipe me out instead of just banishing me back to hell. All you've got to do is kill poor, pretty little Joanna Beth."

Dean's gut was twisted in on itself. He looked to Sam, but his brother looked just as floored. His gaze shifted back to the woman before them; Jo's hair, her body, her face. Maybe Jo was still in there, or maybe the demon had killed her before possessing her corpse. There was no way to know. No way to know if she'd sustained injuries that would kill her if they exorcised the thing. He felt helpless. The demon sighed.

"Oh come on, don't act so pained. It's not like she means _that_ much to either of you, right? Sam, you ignored her after Duluth. Wouldn't take 5 minutes out of your day to call her and make sure she was OK. You were too much of a coward to face her, so you just pretended she didn't exist. And what about you Dean? You pushed her away, told her you wouldn't get her blood on your hands. You told yourself that by walking away and never looking back you were protecting her; told yourself her obsession with hunting was just a phase, and if you didn't indulge her she would get over it and go home. You weren't protecting her, you were weakening her. You cut her off from the help you could have given her. Those amulets Bobby gave you, the tattoos you got? The ones that protect against possession? You could have told her and prevented all of this. You could have taught her so _many_ things, but you didn't. You left her vulnerable. It's your own fault you have to make this choice. Both of you. You turned your backs on someone who wanted your help. Now you have to choose."

Dean felt every word cut into him like a knife. Some part of his brain knew what Meg was doing. There was a logical part of his brain telling him that Jo had found training elsewhere. She wasn't helpless. She had chosen this life and she knew the potential consequences and if she could she would tell him it wasn't his fault. But a much larger, far more emotional part was telling him that all her training meant nothing, because apparently the man who had trained her didn't know about the one foolproof guard against possession. The one thing that _he _should have taught her. That emotional part of his mind kept whispering to him, taunting him. _If you had just called her after Duluth like you said you would, Bobby had just given you the amulets, you might have mentioned it and then she would have known how to protect herself. You should have called her. You should have._

"Dean, we can't listen to her." Sam saw his brother's distress; saw the bitch's hateful words doing exactly what she wanted them to. "We can't, OK? We have to stay focused. We couldn't have known. We _couldn't_. Bobby didn't tell Jo either when he spoke to her. It wasn't our responsibility to teach her. She's just trying to screw with our heads, it's what she does. This is not our fault."

"Not your fault? You couldn't have known? Just like you couldn't have known that your dreams about flambéed Jessica were really premonitions?" Sam's face tightened into a pain filled glower.

"Yes," he said stiffly, "exactly like that." She moved to respond but stopped with a gasp and shook her head, like a dog trying to rid itself of a pesky flea. _Jo_, Dean thought, _she's fighting_. But Meg regained her composure and her sneer.

"Oh please, like you _don't_ blame yourself? Still, after all these years? Part of you knew, even before you understood, before you realized the things you could see. Part…of you knew they weren't normal dreams, and you still ignored them. Didn't do anything to protect…or warn her, just like you both did nothing to protect or warn Jo. How many people in…your lives have to die before you two realize…you're poison?"

Dean felt rather than saw Sam's hand twitch towards the knife in its holster. He was so angry he didn't seem to see what Dean was seeing. Didn't realize how Meg was stumbling over her own words and breathing hard. He didn't see Jo was fighting.

"You're right Sam," he pleaded, "we can't listen to her. She's trying to taunt us into killing Jo, so that we'll feel even guiltier. She feeds on pain; she wants us to do something rash that will kill Jo's body so that we'll have to live with guilt for the rest of our lives."

"What are we going to do Dean," Sam asked quietly.

"Yes, Dean, what _are_ you going to do? If you don't kill me, I'll just have to kill you. That's not what you want, is- ahhhh." Dean and Sam both started. They watched as she stumbled back, clutching her head. When she looked up her eyes had bled back to their normal color.

"Dean?" _Jo_. Dean knew it was her. "Dean, please. Please. You have to stop her. Just kill her. Shoot me, please Dean, I'm begging you please, end this now, _PLEASE! SHOOT ME_!"

Dean was thrown back to Duluth, to Sammy asking the same thing, to himself lowering his gun. _Meg's still here, on this Earth, able to kill those people because I couldn't end it. I couldn't kill my brother_. _Can I do this now? Can I end it?_ Dean felt sick. His hand tightened on the Colt as she continued to plead with him.

"I can't," he said, almost inaudible. "I can't."

"Yes, yes you can. You can Dean. It's OK. Please," she said, barely above a whisper, "I can't fight her much longer, please. Let me go. Please." Dean looked into her eyes, where she was Jo again, and saw no anger, no blame, only acceptance and resolve. She was ready to die as long as she could take that bitch with her. Dean took aim with the Colt.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

He pulled the trigger.

Time stood still. Dean's heart stopped in his chest. Sam was frozen in shock. It all hung suspended while the sound of the shot seemed to echo again and again.

The bullet pierced Jo's leg, exactly where Dean had aimed for. And just as it had happened all those year before when Sam had shot their possessed father, an electric shock seemed to race through her body before she collapsed on the floor.

"Sam," Dean's voice was shaky, "exorcise that bitch back where she belongs."

"Dean, she'll claw her way out again like she did before-"

"Then we'll deal with her then. Right now I want her out of Jo's body." Sam gave a clipped nod and began to chant. He'd barely begun when the body began to stir. As Sam continued Dean reached for the flask of holy water in his inside jacket pocket, unscrewing the cap just as her eyes opened, back to black, and seriously pissed off.

"You son of a - AHHHHHHHHH." Meg screamed as Dean began to throw holy water on her.

"Recite faster Sammy!" Sam increased his chanting, and Dean continued to lash at her with holy water, but it was no use. With a final snarl, before Sam could finish the ritual, Jo's head snapped back, her entire upper body arching up off the ground, as the demon fled.

Dean was at Jo's side in an instant. He tried not to think about how still she was as he searched for a pulse.

"Is she…?" Sam trailed off, unwilling to finish the question.

"She's alive!" Dean felt relief in every part of his body when he finally found the slow thump at her neck. "We need to get the bleeding stopped and get her to a hospital." As Dean spoke Sam ran to the kitchen and found a clean towel, bringing it out so that Dean could tie it tightly around Jo's leg above her wound to slow the bleeding.

"OK. OK, Sam, grab the-" Dean was unable to finish his sentence as he felt his body get thrown back against the wall. Sam followed suite, landing a few feet down the wall.

A woman was walking through the front door. It was the neighbor who had talked with them earlier, her eyes bled to black.

"Sorry boys, I'm not just going to run away this time. I'm done playing head games. I promised a long time ago to peel the flesh from your bones, and I really hate breaking promises. It makes me feel bad." She walked up to the boys, took both the Colt and Ruby's knife and turned to lay them on the coffee table. "You know, you really, _really_ should have taken me out with those when you had the chance. Now, not only do I get to kill you slowly and painfully, I get to take and destroy these two annoyances. My fellow demons will be so happy to know there aren't any more hunters walking around with this kind of firepower." She sauntered back towards them and smiled. "I'm really going to enjoy this." She held up a hand.

Sam began to shout in pain, and Dean watched horrified as blood began to seep through his shirt from the gashes Meg was creating underneath.

"You bitch!" he shouted, "Leave him alone. You want to bloody someone you come after me."

"Now what fun would that be? It's so much more entertaining to make you watch your precious baby brother suffer."

"I thought you said you were done with head games."

"I did say that didn't I. Well, if you insist…" Dean thought he saw Jo stir out of the corner of his eye, but before he could fully process the movement he was blinded by an agonizing pain ripping through his torso. He felt the blood began to drip down his body.

And then it was gone. One minute he was being flayed, the next Meg was no longer standing before him.

--

Jo came awake slowly. She felt wrong, like she didn't belong in her own body. She opened her eyes a crack and saw unfamiliar furniture. She was lying on her side, her face pressed uncomfortably into the carpet below. Looking down she saw a bloody wound on her leg, but was oddly unconcerned. She couldn't feel it. She couldn't feel anything, actually. She felt completely disconnected. As her mind began to clear a bit, images flashed through her head. Blood, death, knives; things she couldn't make sense out of and didn't think she wanted to. She became aware of voices behind her. Shifting slowly she turning her head to look, and saw Sam and Dean pressed up against a wall, their feet off the floor.

"I thought you said you were done with head games."

"I did say that didn't I. Well, if you insist…" Jo jerked as Dean started to scream. _Wrong_, her brain cried out, _this is wrong. Dean and Sam are supposed to be the heroes, they're supposed to win. _Her gaze shifted to the woman standing before the brothers, and Jo's blood ran cold. She knew who it was, knew it instantly, instinctually, and without question, even though she didn't recognize the body. _The bitch_, Jo thought, the heat of anger replacing the cold fear. Jo didn't hesitate, didn't stop to think about how stupid it was. In one quick motion she pushed herself off the floor and flew at Meg. She smashed into her and sent them both crashing through the glass terrace doors. She hit the ground hard, her momentum causing her to skid through broken glass and wood until she slammed into the deck rail. She still couldn't feel anything. It was like being wrapped in a cotton cocoon. Nothing seemed to really touch her. _Maybe I'm dying_, she thought calmly, thinking back to the bloody wound she couldn't feel. _It's OK, I'm ready to go, but I swear to whatever god is listening that I'm taking her with me._

Jo and Meg stood at the same time, facing each other and circling. Meg snarled at her.

"I think I'm going to kill you with my bare hands. Yeah. Yeah, I'm going to watch the life fade from your eyes. And I'm going to make your boyfriend watch."

"Oh shut up. If you're going to kill me, just kill me; don't chat about it all night long."

Meg lunged and Jo sidestepped at the last second, bring her fist into Meg's gut. She immediately followed with and upper cut to the chin that caused Meg to stumble back into the house. Jumping for the shattered door frame, Jo swung herself up and kicked Meg in the face, coming down, her bad leg buckling under her slightly for a moment, and watching her enemy falling on her ass. Meg recovered quickly, grabbing Jo when she came at her and throwing the small blond against the bar counter that led into the kitchen. Jo grunted and let her momentum carry her over and out of site. Meg stalked into the room just as Jo was regaining her stance.

"I really, really don't like you," the demon stated in an obnoxious sing-song voice.

"Gee, I'm crying on the inside," Jo snapped, wiping at her bloody mouth. The two stared at each other while the boys watched helplessly, still pinned against the wall. Jo glanced at them briefly, trying not to let her fear show.

"What's the matter Meg? Why don't you just pin me against a wall like them? You're not too weak, are you?" Her taunt caused a flash in the demon's eye.

"I thought I told you already. I'm going to enjoy killing you with my bare hands. Try to keep up Blondie."

Jo threw a punch but Meg grabbed her hand and twisted it behind her back. She grabbed Jo's hair and slammed her head into one of the cabinets, shattering glass, before punching Jo in the chin hard enough to knock her off her feet and send her head crashing into the countertop. She fell to her knees. The pain was only vaguely starting to register. It wasn't debilitating, but Jo could feel her body slowing. She couldn't move her limbs fast enough. And then Meg grabbed her, pulling her up by her neck. She once again threw her over the counter. Jo landed in a heap and struggled to push herself up. She could see blood on the carpet, dripping from a cut on her forehead. She looked up and saw the Winchesters staring at her in horror and helpless pain. Saw Dean's face change as he looked at her. For a moment it went soft, and then there was a steely confidence in him.

"Kick. Her. Ass." he ordered her firmly.

"Oh please," Meg simpered as she wandered back into the living room. "Spare me the motivational speeches. Why do you white-hats never know when to concede defeat, hmm? It's pathetic." Jo, still on her hands and knees, let her shoulders droop in mock helplessness. When Meg was close enough, practically on top of her, she whipped her leg out and kicked the demon's knee out from under her. Jo stumbled towards the fireplace, grabbing a poker and turned back to her enemy. Meg barely had time to regain her feet before Jo swung the weapon into her stomach. She followed up with swing after swing, smashing into whatever body part she could reach, until Meg was cornered against a wall. Jo threw down the poker and slammed her fist into Meg's face, over and over again, as hard as she could. She felt bone shatter, saw blood dripping down.

And then Meg simply reached out and closed her hand over Jo's neck. She quickly spun them around, switching their positions so that she had Jo pinned.

"Do you think anything you can do is really going to hurt me? I got news for you baby, _nothing_ you do is going to make a damn bit of difference." And with that, keeping one hand on Jo's neck and moving the other to the waist of her jeans, she flipped the small blond over her head and sent her crashing into the coffee table. The wood gave out, and Jo smashed into the floor. She felt all the oxygen in her body forced out, and in the next second Meg's hand was around her throat, choking the life out of her.

Jo bucked against her violently, grabbed the hand wrapped around her neck and dug in with her nails until she drew blood, but it was no use. Meg didn't even flinch. _I have to find a way out, I have to kill her. _Jo looked around desperately, but her vision was already beginning to gray. She thought she heard Dean shout, or maybe it was Sam. She didn't know. It didn't matter. She was going to die, they all were, if she didn't find away to get Meg off of her. As her struggles began to weaken her gaze shifted to the left. And there, off to the side, by her left boot, was the knife. Ruby's knife. Sitting on the carpet where it had fallen when she crashed through the table. She looked at Meg, who had lowered her face to inches away, starring intently into Jo's eyes like a small child watching an ant burn under a magnifying glass. Keeping her gaze on Meg's, keeping Meg looking at her, she caught the knife with her heel and kicked it up towards her hand. With one swift movement she caught it, and plunged it into the side of Meg's neck.

Meg cried out in shock and pain while she burned from the inside out. Her hands grew almost unbearably hot against Jo's neck for a moment, and then she slumped forward, dead. Jo pushed her roughly off to the side and then stayed where she was on the ground, coughing and gasping for air. All the pain she hadn't been able to feel before came rushing at her now as the adrenaline left her and Jo couldn't even muster the will to scream as tears collected in her eyes. When she'd first woken up she'd felt almost invincible. She most definitely didn't feel that way now. She heard glass crunching and looked up to see the Winchesters racing to her side, freed from their paranormal bindings. Dean knelt by her side and touched the side of her head gently where she was bleeding.

"Hey," he said very quietly.

"Hey," she whispered back. "Bet I look fantastic right now," she said with a pained grin.

"Oh yeah, this is a good look for all of us," he said in an attempt at humor, glancing around at their various bloody states.

"Guess that whole taking care of myself thing didn't quite work out the way I wanted. You warn me to be careful and only a couple hours later I'm possessed and in need of some serious rescuing." Dean gave a short laugh.

"I think we'll call this one even. Can you sit up?"

"I think so." She began to slowly push herself up, wincing as her back painfully reminded her of its recent encounter with a solid wood piece of furniture. Dean helped, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and taking some of the strain off her bruised muscles. When she was upright he shifted to look at the back of her head where she had hit it on the counter. Sam, meanwhile, knelt down to check the gunshot wound. It was still bleeding but the makeshift tourniquet seemed to have slowed the flow considerably.

"Well, aside from the cuts on your face from the glass, it doesn't look like there's much visible damage to your head. That doesn't mean you don't have a concussion though. I think we need to get you to a hospital."

"No."

"Jo, you're bleeding everywhere."

"And what do you suppose is going to happen when you show up at the hospital with a woman who's been shot? They'll call the police. You guys are supposed to be dead, having to get interviewed by cops seems to be tempting fate, and considering you're both plenty bloody yourselves at the moment it's not like you'd blend in. You guys are not going to end up in jail because of me."

"Jo," Sam said quietly, "this isn't because of you. None of what has happened is your fau-"

"How long," she interrupted.

"What?"

"How long has she been using me? I have flashes of memories, I know I was possessed for awhile, but it's still too hazy right now, I don't have any clear sense of time. What's today's date?"

"It's April 24th." Jo stared at Dean feeling sick.

"The last thing I remember is the night I saw you guys again, at that bar in Idaho. That was in February, right? She had me for 2 months." Jo was beginning to feel quite nauseas, the knowledge of how long she'd been out of control of her own body adding to the horror she felt as she continued to remember flashes of those months; of bloody hands and knives, and people pleading uselessly. Her eyes drifted to the body of the woman who had been Meg's final victim. _My victim_, Jo thought weakly. She looked back at Dean, who still had his arm wrapped around her. "Can we please go? I don't think I can be here anymore.

"Yeah," he said. "OK, let's go." Dean shifted to help Jo up. She hurt in places she'd never hurt before in her life, but she could stand, with Dean's help taking some of the weight off her injured leg. He walked her to the truck while Sam went back to grab anything that was theirs and wipe down anything they might have touched.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: This is it, the final chapter. Thanks to everyone who read through the end. I had to post everything much faster than I wanted to so I can go deal with real life. I do want to write again, maybe even a sequel for this story, so please let me know what you think and be honest so I know what I need to work on next time.

* * *

"FUCK!" Jo spat as Sam was finally able to pull the bullet free from her leg. "Remind me to never ever under any circumstances have someone pull a bullet out of my body without proper anesthetic again."

"Baby," Dean teased her.

"Damn straight. Is that how it felt when I pulled that shot out of your shoulder? Because _fuck_, Dean."

"Yeah, well. I'm just more of a badass than you are cupcake." She kicked at him lightly with her good leg and Sam admonished her to hold still while he finished bandaging her other one. Jo had gulped down as much Tequila as she could while the boys patched themselves up, then Sam had dug in with the tweezers while Dean held her leg still against the hotel mattress. The Tequila hadn't done much to dull the pain. Jo retroactively gave thanks that Dean had been such a good patient. He could have been a total pain in the ass.

Sam stood, after finishing taping the gauze he'd wrapped around her leg.

"I'm going to go get some ice for your throat," he offered sympathetically. Jo gave him a small smile in gratitude, pushing herself up from where she had been laying to sit back against the headboard. She hadn't looked in a mirror yet but she had a feeling her neck looked exactly like it felt; bruised to hell. When Sam was gone Dean sat on the other bed and looked everywhere but at her. Jo shifted through her hazy memories and winced.

"So….did we…?"

"Uh……yeah….um….I thought….I mean, I didn't know….so….." Dean trailed off and Jo couldn't blame him. _Miss Manners didn't exactly cover this in the etiquette handbook_, Jo thought. _What do you say to someone you slept with when they weren't really them?_ The silence stretched on and Jo wondered what was taking Sam so long.

"Well this is awkward on a level I previously didn't know existed," she said out loud. She thought she caught a very small grin tug at his lips, but he didn't look up. Jo bit her lip and let out a slow breath. "Dean? Could you look at me for a second?" Dean sighed but complied. "Please don't blame yourself for it, OK? I don't know what I feel yet, about _anything_ right now, but I know how I _don't_ feel. And I don't feel victimized by _you_."

Dean just continued to stare at her and Jo felt herself growing slightly inappropriately hot. Was it really fair for him to still, after everything that had happened that night, look_ that_ pretty? Jo had been and still was confused about what to feel for Dean. With him looking at her like that, and with memories of him naked floating through her head, Jo was finding herself drifting dangerously back into her old fantasies.

The two were startled out of their gazing by Dean's phone ringing. He glanced at the caller ID before answering.

"What's up Sam?" He listened to his brother for a few moments before nodding. "OK, sounds good. Don't be gone too long." He hung up the phone and looked back to her. "Sam says the ice machine is broken so he's going to the store to buy some and get you some stronger pain meds."

"And Sammy shoots to the top of my 'favorite people' list." She gave Dean a smile. "You're number two, by the way. I've been meaning to thank you."

"Thank me?" Dean asked, sincerely befuddled.

"For shooting me when I asked you to," Jo said with a slight smile. Dean stared at her incredulously.

"I…you're actually _thanking_ me for shooting you? Maybe you hit your head harder than we thought" Jo gave a half hearted laugh, fully aware her gratitude was a tad odd.

"My head is fine. Physically anyway. It's just…" Jo trailed off, biting her lip again, her laughter fading. She drew her knees up to her chin, mindful of her injury, and stared off into the distance as she continued. "I was trapped. I've never felt so helpless in my life. I had to watch while she killed those people. Feel their blood on _my_ hands." Her voice cracked a bit and she wiped at a single tear that had escaped down her cheek. She heard rather than saw Dean move, and then he was sitting next to her on the bed, facing her and reaching for her hand. She looked into his eyes. "You saved me. Even if…if things had gone another way. I still would have been free from her. So yes, thank you." She leaned forward and hugged him impulsively, and was relieved when he hugged her back instead of pushing her away. Seemed even Dean Winchester could suppress his fear of emotions when the occasion called for it. She let her head rest against his shoulder for awhile, enjoying the feeling. She pulled back suddenly, surprising Dean.

"Oh my god. I need to call my mom. I usually check in every couple of weeks and it's been months, she's probably _completely_ freaking by now." Dean nodded and handed her his phone. Hers had been crushed sometime during the fight.

"Don't make it sound like I had anything to do with anything," he said while she dialed, "I'd like to still be alive tomorrow." Jo was rolling her eyes when her mom answered.

"Hello?"

"Mom." There was a pause on the other line, as if she were the last person her mother had been expecting to hear from. That didn't last.

"_Joanna Beth_, where the hell are you and what the hell do you think you're doing not calling me for two whole goddamn months?" Jo smiled at her mom through the phone. It was so good to hear her voice, even if she was cussing her out.

"I'm sorry mom. Something happened." Dean got up and walked to the small table in the room while she talked, where he picked up a pen and started to write something. Jo talked to her mom for several minutes, but she kept things vague, not wanting to cause her mother to panic and promising to tell her more when she came to visit, which she hoped would be within a few days. After awhile they said I love you and hung up and Jo held Dean's phone out to him. He came and took it from her, sitting down next to her again. When he handed her the paper he'd been scribbling on she saw that he hadn't been writing at all, but drawing. It was some kind of symbol that involved a pentagram.

"What's this?"

"That is a symbol that wards off possession. Wearing an amulet in that shape as a necklace is good enough, but I suggest getting it tattooed over your heart as soon as you're up to it." He pulled the collar of his shirt down as he spoke to reveal his own tattoo. Jo studied both him and the symbol for a moment before breaking into a teasing grin.

"Soooo….you want us to get matching tattoos?" Jo's grin grew at the expression on Dean's face.

"Sam has one too, ya know. It's not like it's…I mean, I'm not…."

"I'm teasing you Dean," Jo said lightly, punching one of his shoulders playfully.

"Oh you're hilarious," he mumbled. Jo gave a short laugh and shook her head at him, then trailed off and gazed around the room for awhile, thinking about things. After a few minutes of silence she turned back to him suddenly.

"I want to watch cartoons." Dean seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Uh…..wha-….um…..Huh?" Jo laughed fully for the first time in months.

"I don't know, I just…I used to watch cartoons all the time when I was a little girl, and I haven't in forever. And for some reason…I just really want to watch cartoons. Like I used to when I was a kid." Dean was giving her that look again, the one that made her go slightly hot in places where she shouldn't be. For a second she wondered if he was going to kiss her. He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear and let his thumb trail across her jaw for a moment and even leaned in ever so slightly. But then he just smiled.

"OK. Cartoons it is.

--

When Sam came back a full half an hour after leaving the motel room he found Jo and Dean sitting back against the headboard of one of the beds, their shoulders touching slightly, arguing with each other. Sam at first was confused, but when he saw the TV was on their argument began to make more sense.

"Wile E. Coyote was brilliant, OK? It's not his fault that those acme products are all faulty. It's takes true creative genius to come up with plans like that."

"Oh give me a break Dean. _Elmer Fudd_ could have outsmarted that idiot. And besides, Bugs Bunny is _clearly _the smartest out of all of them!"

They looked up briefly when Sam came in and gave a tandem "Hey Sam" before resuming their debate. Sam laughed at them and went to the bathroom to get Jo a glass of water, handing it to her along with the medicine he'd bought when he came back into the room. She swallowed the pills and took the bag of ice he offered next.

"You know," he said, sitting against the headboard of the other bed, "I always liked Foghorn Leghorn." Jo and Dean stared at him, turned and looked at each other, then turned back to Sam.

"_Dude_," they said at the same time in twin voices of disgust.

"I can't believe I'm related to you," Dean was looking at Sam with disappointment. "If you were going to pick a lame character couldn't you at least have gone with Pepe' Le Pew or something? At least he had decent priorities."

"Oh, and of course you consider chasing tail a decent priority," Jo said, smacking him in the chest lightly with the back of her hand. They quickly devolved into arguing with each other again and Sam sat back to watch cartoons with a smile on his face, laughing at his brother and the woman he had a feeling they would be seeing a lot more of from now on.


End file.
